Oro
by cowboy
Summary: This is an XF from around season 3. It has gold bodies, shipwreck treasure, gunfights, and other like subjects. Maybe I'll add in some MSR (doesn't everyone?). PLEASE pop in and take a look. *I've put an Epilogue up*
1. Lost With All Hands

Oro  
  
Notes- this takes place probably during Season 3. I'm trying my hand at a 'normal' X-File case. I don't know how much (if any) MSR there will be. I actually thought up this story's premise separate of the X-Files, but when I thought it over, it seemed like it would make a good XF. BTW, 'Oro' is Spanish for gold- I tried to think up a title like a real XF episode. This is just the intro, so MS don't come in yet. Enough of my rambling, enjoy the story, Your pal, The Guy Who Wrote This Story  
  
Disclaimer- a lot of people have already thought up witty ways to answer this. I'll just say the X-Files and related characters aren't my property. You'll notice characters of my own imagination right away.  
  
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"Gold is a treasure, and he who possesses it does all he wishes to in this world, and succeeds in helping souls into paradise." Christopher Columbus  
  
Chapter 1:  
Lost With All Hands  
  
Off the Florida Coast. 1536.  
  
The Heavens opened up and poured forth Hell. Admiral Diego de Cabrera stared at the shadowy sky in a vain attempt to soothe the heaving seas. To no avail. The sea continued its vicious pounding of the once proud capitana of the Tierra Firma Fleet. The galleon's sides heaved and buckled with each massive blow. When you live your life at sea, you can tell when a ship's death is near, and de Cabrera knew his ship's time was up.  
  
"Ready the longboat!" de Cabrera called to his Mate.  
  
Only the longboat carried only 50 people. That would leave a lot of the 400 people on board treading water. If he could-  
  
A sickening crunch jarred de Cabrera from his thoughts. The ship had run aground on a reef.  
  
*No!* de Cabrera thought, *No! Pissarro promised me untold wealth! I cannot fail now!*  
  
De Cabrera rushed for his cabin. He would complete his mission yet. The King would receive Pissarro's chest. The deck was awash with water, debris, and panicked people. De Cabrera pushed past all of them. He had to deliver the chest, he had to-  
  
De Cabrera was in such a rush he did not notice the topmast had broken. When it fell from atop and piled into the masses below, de Cabrera was crushed instantly. He would not have his riches.  
  
The galleon was in its death throws. It had broken its back on the reef, and now the thundering seas were grinding the planks to kindling. Chaos ensued on the main deck. Men, women, and children gasped for a rare but of air, and searched frantically for loved ones. Someone burst open a chest of gold escudos, sharing willingly to all around him in his final moments. Priests tried to take people's confessions and absolve them of them of lifetimes of bad deeds. The waves impassively pounded on.  
  
One last shudder shook through the galleon's tired frame. Then wood, cargo, treasure, and people were dumped to the sea. Within minutes the only traces left were some wood debris bobbing upon the sea.  
  
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A league away, aboard another galleon, Captain Juan Ibarra eyed the demise of the capitana with heavy heart. *Such life lost*. The storm wouldn't let up enough for him to go for survivors. All he could do was continue for Spain and notify the King of his loss of treasure. After all, that's all he would care about.  
  
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Off the Florida coast. 1995.  
  
The sun hung lazily in the sky. Just another beautiful Florida sunshine day.  
  
Don Sampson stared at the shimmering light cerulean sea. The cerulean blue seemed so placid. He found it hard to imagine the terror that had once taken place on that terrible night some 450 odd years ago. A head broke through the sparkling waves. The wet-suit-less diver swam over to the 28- foot salvage boat where Sampson stood. He spat out his mouthpiece.  
  
"Looks like we got ourselves a little chest. Intact."  
  
Don was surprised. In the 40 odd years he'd been diving he'd never found an intact chest on a wreck. It wasn't like in the movies: the ships broke up into thousands of pieces, the surviving planks of wood ended up under sand or eaten up by worms, most of the iron rusted away, and there were *never* any skeletons.  
  
"Intact?" repeated Sampson, his tan frame leaning over the diver.  
  
"Yeah, here."  
  
The diver treaded water and pulled a small chest out of his mesh dive bag.  
  
"It was around where we figure the Captain's cabin would be. Maybe precious cargo?"  
  
"I'll take a look at it." Sampson said, taking the small chest.  
  
"I'm going back under," the diver said before disappearing into the blue.  
  
Sampson held the chest in his hand. It felt pretty heavy. Having experienced a number of salvages in his years, Sampson knew not to get his hopes up with visions of gold doubloons. Still, a chest *could* hold anything.  
  
Sampson carried the chest to the recovery room. Since it was Sunday, most of the crew in Don's operation had the day off. He had the room to himself. Objects in various states of recovery sat in electrolytic baths. Man was trying to reverse what Nature had its mind set about finishing. Man was winning.  
  
Sampson set the chest on a table, amid a small pile of old rusted iron spikes. The closer Sampson looked, the more the chest looked like it was in great condition for so long under the sea. Usually he would set about documenting the object recovered, but Sampson was so interested by the chest he decided he would open it now. Sampson grabbed a small hammer and screwdriver, and set about gently hammering at the hinges. Soon there was enough broken off, and Sampson lifted the lid.  
  
Inside was a rock a bit larger than a softball. Sampson took it out of the chest and put it on the table. He stared. The rock stared back. The rock had a rough, uneven, black surface, but with several large patches of a shiny, silver, metallic substance. It appeared almost burnt to Sampson. What the hell was this? Why was it in its own chest? Sampson examined the chest. He noticed on the inside it was lined with a thick layer of lead. *That's different*.  
  
Sampson felt a bit uneasy in his stomach around this rock. He decided to go and get a magnifying glass to get a better look at this rock. Sampson left and went rummaging through the boat.  
  
He returned 45 minutes later, having searched everywhere, until he remembered there was one in the recovery room. Sampson picked up the magnifying glass from next to the tanks with filled with objects. He walked back to the rock. He was about to pick it up when he noticed something: a dull shine. Half of the iron spikes had turned to solid gold.  
  
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Vero Beach, Florida. One week later.  
  
Sheriff Blake Easton tipped back his wide brimmed hat. He squinted at the motel building, trying to ignore the bright yellow orb in the sky.  
  
"This the place, Jeff?"  
  
"Sure is Sheriff," Deputy Jeff Sims replied.  
  
They both walked from the baking parking lot into the main office. They were greeted with a salvo from a sputtering air conditioner. A tired looking woman sat at the counter.  
  
"Afternoon ma'am," Blake started, "we're with the Sheriff's department. You called about a body?"  
  
The tired looking women sighed, picked up a key, and handed it to Blake.  
  
"Room 19. Go out and it's to the left. Nobody's gone into the room. We saw him through the window."  
  
She went back to reading a magazine.  
  
"Thank you, ma'am."  
  
The blast of heat was even more surprising then the cool air had been. The two cops slowly trudged through the heat to Room 19. After an eternity they made it.  
  
"Damn its hot," Jeff pointed out, wiping his brow.  
  
They both entered the room. It was a typical, sparsely furnished motel room. A lamp on a nightstand next to the bed was turned on. They both noticed the body right away. He was seated in a chair, hands tied behind his back, head tilted back. Blake walked up to him. He saw the bloody red ring around the man's tan neck. *So he was strangled*. Blake turned and looked for some luggage. But there was nothing except a small empty box on the bed.  
  
"Uh, Sheriff, take a look at this."  
  
Blake walked back over to the body. Jeff had pulled down the collar on the man's Hawaiian shirt, exposing the man's tan chest. Tan except for the large part of his chest that appeared to be solid gold.  
  
"Christ."  
  
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Hey, this is my second story, so try to go easy on me. This is just the very beginning of this story. I hope to add on soon. Please drop me an email if you wanna talk -ME 


	2. Gilded

"Saint-seducing gold." William Shakespeare  
  
Chapter 2:  
  
Gilded  
  
FBI Headquarters. A few days later.  
  
When Dana Scully came into the basement office, she found Fox Mulder was already there. The room was dimly lit. The room was *always* dimly lit. She shook her head. *Does this man ever sleep?* He stood by the room's single desk, thoughtfully engrossed in a folder on the desktop.  
  
Mulder hadn't noticed her right away. But eventually he turned to her and smiled. For so early in the morning, he had an awfully cheerful attitude.  
  
"Morning Scully. Take a look at this."  
  
Mulder held a slide projector switch in his hand, and pressed the button. The projector's light caught dust in the air, creating a magic sparkling ray across the room. An image of a man sitting in a chair was quickly up on the screen across the room. The man was in his early 50's, slightly balding, but with a pretty muscular build. His body was a deep leather tan, the kind of tan you get from a life of hard work outdoors. The man's shirt was closed.  
  
"Don Sampson, 52, of Vero Beach Florida."  
  
"I know him Mulder," Scully pointed out, "Wasn't he in the newspapers for finding some shipwreck in the Keys?"  
  
"Aye, aye, matey" Mulder replied in a pirate voice, until he looked over and saw Scully hadn't laughed.  
  
He continued more seriously, "Yeah, it was the Santa Laguna off Key West. But he was working on some other wrecks a lot further north along the coast when the local Sheriff found him like this." Then he continued in an announcer's voice, "But wait, there's more!"  
  
The new picture on the screen was exactly similar to its predecessor, except for the fact that the man's shirt had been opened up wide. The top right part of his chest shined with the brilliant luster of that most precious of metals: gold.  
  
Scully arched her eyebrows. She still hadn't gotten completely used to some of the things she saw here.  
  
"What do you think, Scully?" Mulder asked, studying her reaction; he liked presenting Scully with outlandish ideas and images, just to see how she would react.  
  
"Well, it looks like this man was painted with some gold substance-"  
  
Mulder started humming 'Goldfinger'.  
  
"Actually, that *is* gold," said Mulder.  
  
Mulder flashed through more pictures, each a different view of the body and room.  
  
"It would seem Mr. Sampson was found in a motel room with his hands tied. He appeared to have died of strangulation. He had no belongings other than his wallet and "  
  
The screen flashed a close up of the crimson ring around Sampson's neck.  
  
"Mulder, this has all the indications of some sort of organized crime killing, not really an X-File-"  
  
"Except for his 'heart of gold'" Mulder couldn't resist chiming in.  
  
Scully cracked a smile and shook her head, "Come on Mulder, how could his chest be solid gold? There must be another explanation; he could've had some sort of surgery."  
  
"Well that's for us to figure out now, isn't it?" Mulder said, pulling out two plane tickets, "How about we lose this rainy Washington weather for a little fun in sunny Florida?"  
  
*So that's why he's in such a good mood*.  
  
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Vero Beach, Florida. Later that day.  
  
It was hot as Hell. Mulder wearily wiped his forehead. He was sweating buckets. He hadn't imagined it would be *this* hot, even with his sleeves rolled up. He would've packed short-sleeve shirts. Scully had been prepared, and she wore a simple white tee-shirt under her dark blouse. The tee shirt accentuated her nice curves. Mulder couldn't help stealing a glance.  
  
Neither could Sheriff Blake.  
  
"Afternoon folks," Blake said in his laid-back voice, a smile crossing his face for the redhead, "you all got some identification for being here? This is a crime scene."  
  
They stood in the burning asphalt sea outside the motel.  
  
Scully flashed her badge.  
  
"This is Agent Mulder and I'm Agent Scully. We're with the FBI. I believe your office contacted us?" she said.  
  
"Awful sorry 'bout that ma'am," Blake said, still smiling, "but we've had quite a few newspapers come snooping around because of this case's nature."  
  
"The gold?" Mulder inquired.  
  
Blake shook his head, "Well, you folks better come up and take a look yourselves."  
  
Blake led them to Room 19. They felt half dead from the heat by the time they got there.  
  
"Is it always this hot?" asked Mulder.  
  
"Nope. You all arrived smack in the middle of a record burn."  
  
"'Fun in sunny Florida', Mulder?" Scully whispered, but they already arrived at the room.  
  
Blake held open the door for Scully.  
  
"After you, ma'am."  
  
"Thank you, Sheriff," Scully said, flashing a smile.  
  
Blake let go of the door and Mulder just managed to slip into the room without getting hit by it. He frowned.  
  
"Oh, please call me Blake, everyone else does."  
  
"Sheriff, we found something on the box," Deputy Sims called over.  
  
Blake smiled and shook his head, "Now don't go proving me a liar, Jeff."  
  
Jeff hadn't heard him, but Mulder and Scully had, and they exchanged an amused glance (maybe Mulder more amused than Scully).  
  
They all walked over to the small box on the bed. Jeff handed the box to Blake.  
  
"If you look real closely at the inside left side, you'll see some black scrapings," Jeff pointed out.  
  
Blake examined the box closely, "Looks a bit like it was burnt."  
  
Though Mulder's hand was out, Blake handed the box to Scully.  
  
"Ma'am," he said, smiling.  
  
"Thank you, Blake," Scully said, taking the box.  
  
When Blake turned his back, Mulder made a face to Scully, who arched her eyebrows in return.  
  
"I think we can have this substance analyzed," said Scully.  
  
Mulder leaned over her to get a look at the box, "It seems like some sort of mineral or rock. Are there any other forensic leads?"  
  
"You mean other than that," Blake said, pointing to Sampson's body.  
  
"Other than that," Mulder replied, a little annoyed.  
  
"Well I don't think so. I was just going to go down to the marina and ask some of Sampson's coworkers if they knew anything. You can join me if you'd like."  
  
"Sure," Mulder said, then aside to Scully, "I'm sure you'll want to take a look at the body."  
  
"Yes Mulder, I will do the autopsy. It'll be good to get out of the heat."  
  
"Great. *Blake* and I will go right on to the marina."  
  
Before he left with Blake, Mulder stopped to examine the body. All he did was tap the gold part of the man's chest with a pen. It made a sharp clinking noise. Mulder smiled, and then walked out after Blake.  
  
Scully walked over to the body. She looked at the body's gold chest. Scully's image stared back at her in the reflection.  
  
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Elsewhere in Vero Beach.  
  
The street was filled with tourists and tourist shops alike. There were so many tourists you couldn't even tell who was a local, because there were none to be found. There were some people actually here on business, though.  
  
The South African was used to the heat. The part of the Kalahari Desert where he was born was much hotter in the summer. Much hotter. That simply made the hunting more interesting. Ah, but he was not here to reminisce about the joys of his simple youth; no there was a job that had to be done, and done well.  
  
The South African continued walking down the street. He'd been following his prey for several days now, but his prey hadn't made a real move until the visit to the motel. When the South African had seen the body, he knew right away what had transpired. After seeing the body's chest, the South African was surprised (at least to the extent you could get surprised in his business). The rock appeared more powerful than his Government's report had led him to believe. No wonder *everybody* wanted it so bad.  
  
His prey stopped and looked in a window, casually glancing around. The South African had followed enough people to know that meant he would have to move quickly. The store his prey stopped in front of was just next to an alley. The South African casually continued walking towards his prey. The man turned and looked right at the South African as he walked by.  
  
Predator watches prey watches predator watches prey.  
  
The South African quickly grabbed his prey by the collar and swung him into the alley. The South African pulled out his silenced piece and pressed it to the man's temple.  
  
"Where's the rock?"  
  
His prey looked surprised, but his eyes showed no sign of fear. *I'm certainly dealing with another professional,* thought the South African.  
  
"I won't ask a third time. Where is it?"  
  
The bullet slammed into the South African's head with the speed of, well, a bullet. The South African fell into the arms of his former prey, a small hole trickling blood from just before his ear. The former prey quickly stepped back and ran down the alley. He heard the plinking noise of several bullets striking the ground around his pounding feet. He would've pulled out his gun, but he didn't have the time. The former prey jumped a small fence at the alley's end, but when he came down on the other side he stumbled, as he had been shot in the ass. He quickly (and painfully) staggered away.  
  
The Australian dropped the newspaper that had hidden his silenced gun. He stopped over the dead South African. The Australian dropped the Morley he had been smoking. Small embers jumped off the ground. *So the South Africans were here too. Well, that meant that there would be others,* the Australian contemplated, *A lot of people want that rock bad*.  
  
The Australian parted with a wink and the words, "Sorry, mate. That's how the business goes."  
  
The body offered no reply.  
  
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This probably seems confusing now, but it'll make more sense as I add on chapters. I'll tell you that I've got a pretty good idea where I want this to go, but how I get there I still have to figure out. My ego is a terrible monster, so please write a review (any review), to appease its hunger. Sincerely,  
  
- Me (who needs to stop writing and get some sleep right now) 


	3. All That Glitters

"Though wisdom cannot be gotten for gold, still less can it be gotten without it." Samuel Butler  
  
Chapter 3:  
  
All That Glitters  
  
The soft wind kissed at Mulder's face, a brief respite from the hellish heat. The breeze smelled of the salty ocean, whispering to all that would listen of distant shores and desert islands.  
  
As they walked from the fiery parking lot towards the creaking wooden dock, Sheriff Blake questioned Mulder on his experience with "odd" cases.  
  
"So, Agent Mulder, do you and the lovely *Agent Scully*," Blake put a special emphasis on 'Agent Scully', "Come across on cases of this unusual nature often?"  
  
Mulder looked at Blake through his sunglasses. Blake couldn't read Mulder's reaction.  
  
"Sheriff, there are far more cases out there of an 'unusual nature' than you would probably believe."  
  
"Agent Mulder, I like to keep an open mind to everything that's out there. At least down here you have to be able to keep an open mind. But something like this, its just not quite what you would expect. Its doesn't even seem scientifically possible."  
  
"You'd be surprised how often the impossible becomes possible. People tend to label what they can't really understand as 'impossible'."  
  
Mulder would've gone on, but they had arrived at the marina's main office. He asked for the slip of Sampson's salvage vessel, and they were given directions. The dock creaked in protest as they strolled over to the boat. They stopped just before the crisp white vessel, a shining new testament to modern man's conquest of the sea.  
  
A young man with dark black hair was hosing down the deck.  
  
"Excuse me," Mulder spoke out, "I'm Agent Mulder with the FBI. This is Sheriff Easton. We would like to ask you a few questions about the death of Don Sampson."  
  
The man turned off the hose and jumped from the boat to the bobbing dock.  
  
"Sam Franklin," the man said, offering his hand to Mulder, then Blake, "I'd be glad to help. Don was a good guy and a hard worker. He really inspired me and the other divers here."  
  
"Can you think of any folks who would want to harm Mr. Sampson?" Blake asked.  
  
"Not really."  
  
"How's that?"  
  
"Well he had rivals, most people in the salvage industry make them. But they're more likely to just sabotage your boat then to actually go and kill you."  
  
"Would you mind making a list of your closest competitors?"  
  
"No problem. Let me just go back to the pilot house."  
  
As Sam jumped back onto the vessel, Mulder called out, "Mind if we take a look around?"  
  
"Go ahead," Sam replied over his shoulder.  
  
Blake and Mulder hopped onto the boat after Sam. But they landed on the crest of a small wave, and both tumbled to the deck. They lay staring at the cerulean blue sky for an instant, the sounds of gulls and waves echoing in their ears. But just as quickly the men sheepishly got up and straightened themselves out.  
  
"Let's pretend that didn't happen," Mulder said.  
  
They both split up and went about through the different cabins. Mulder didn't know what he was looking for, but he felt he would know it when he saw it. He wandered through the different cabins. Mulder eventually found himself in the recovery room. He eyed the eclectic mix of artifacts that sat in the chemical baths and on the tables. Most of the objects were colored mute silver or pale copper. Mulder started looking through the drawers in the table at the room's center. He tried the bottommost right- side drawer, but it only replied by not budging.  
  
"Need some help, Agent Mulder?"  
  
It was Blake.  
  
"I couldn't find anything on this boat that seemed real suspicious."  
  
Mulder looked up from the drawer, "I don't think I'll need help."  
  
He pulled out his lock-picking kit and got to work on the drawer's lock.  
  
"You didn't see this, right?" Mulder called to Blake over his shoulder.  
  
"See what?"  
  
After jostling for a few moments with the lock, Mulder won and the drawer revealed its contents: papers. Mulder looked through them.  
  
"What's there?" asked Blake.  
  
"Looks like translations of archival documents from Spain. This isn't-"  
  
Mulder stopped.  
  
"There's something else in here."  
  
The soft glint of something else in the recesses of the drawer caught Mulder's eye. He reached in and felt some rough objects. Mulder pulled them out. He opened his hand and was greeted by a handful of gold nails. They appeared rough from their long sojourn under the sea. But they still held that twinkling allure that has driven men to conquer continents. Blake looked surprised.  
  
"Christ."  
  
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The Australian called the Home Office on one of the main street's payphones.  
  
"I wasn't notified the South Africans would be here."  
  
"That should not be a complication. The rock must still be acquired," the Voice replied.  
  
"There's no problem. He has been taken care of. But who else has been sent?"  
  
"The Canadians, the Kiwis, the Chinese. We also believe the Russians are on their way," the Voice replied, "So time is of the essence."  
  
"The Kiwis even?"  
  
"Listen," the Voice sternly said, "the Home Office will not tolerate failure on an issue of this importance. We have just learned the Americans have put the FBI on this already. They do not know the full circumstances yet. Perhaps you could use them to your advantage. Just get the rock."  
  
The line went dead. The Australian hung up. *Bloody damn rock*.  
  
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"I have no idea where he got those."  
  
Sam eyed the pile of gold nails warily, as if they had appeared magically, out of thin air.  
  
"I would've known if we discovered anything unusual like this."  
  
Blake scratched his head, "How's that?"  
  
"I'm the chief diver, so all discoveries go through me. Plus, nails from the wreck would almost certainly be iron. Gold was rarer back then than it is today, and would you ever use gold to nail some wood together?"  
  
"Nope, don't think I would."  
  
Mulder was absorbed in the archival documents. He looked up.  
  
"What's this in here about the demotion of Captain Ibarra? He seemed to have been demoted for a shipwreck that wasn't his fault."  
  
Sam thought, then replied, "Well I didn't really go through the archives, but I think Ibarra was demoted in relation with the loss of an extremely valuable private cargo. It was from Francisco Pizarro directly to the King of Spain. That's actually why we first started looking for this wreck. We thought the admiral's cabin would hold this cargo. But all we found from there was a small chest."  
  
Sam indicated to the chest that sat on a table. Mulder walked over to examine it.  
  
"Are these always coated with lead?"  
  
"Lead? No, that's unusual."  
  
Sam walked over to take a look.  
  
"You know, as a matter of fact, Don had been looking at this chest very carefully just a week or so ago."  
  
Mulder exchanged a glance with Blake. Blake walked over.  
  
"Look at this," Mulder pointed out.  
  
The box's inside was smooth lead, lead being impervious to the ocean's fury. But along one corner were some flakes. Dark black, well cooked looking flakes. Flakes that looked suspiciously like the ones from the box in the motel room.  
  
In Mulder's mind, a candle had been lit to the darkness of the case.  
  
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Cerulean blue- cerulean blue- cerulean blue- cerulean blue- whoops! Sorry, I just got stuck imagining calm, soothing cerulean blue. Anyhoo, I just got back from a fun-filled day at the horse track and I need to go mope about my losses, so ciao  
  
-This writer 


	4. What Men Seek

A/N- for some reason (probably Fate conspiring against me), when I loaded up this chapter, all quotation marks and apostrophes come out in weird characters. So I changed the text. If you see {}, just try to imagine quotation marks (or ` for apostrophes). Sorry about all this, and please still try to enjoy the story.  
  
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{He is the richest who is content with the least.} Socrates  
  
Chapter 4:  
  
What Men Seek  
  
Vero Beach, The Palm Motel. 7:38 p.m.  
  
She rolled her eyes. {Oh *come on*, Mulder.}  
  
Scully sat on the cheap motel bed, elbows resting on her knees and chin resting in her hands.  
  
Her voice got higher, in that way that it often did when she and Mulder clashed. {That sounds like the premise of some cheap horror movie from the fifties.}  
  
Mulder came back into the room from the bathroom, the sound of the toilet flushing punctuating her last statement.  
  
{Hey, I happen to enjoy those movies.}  
  
Scully`s only reply was to blow an errant strand of hair out of her face. Mulder found her pose oddly intriguing, but made no mention of it. The last thing he wanted was to get her riled.  
  
Mulder continued, {You told me your findings were unusual.}  
  
{Just because I found unusual amounts of radiation-}  
  
Mulder cut her off, irritating her. {Along with the gold. Think about it Scully. What better way to get revenge than to curse the very material your conquerors seek? The irony here is so thick it could rust.}  
  
{Mulder, think about all the different ships that cruise and pollute these waters. About all the toxic sludge that can buildup with that power plant down the coast. There are so many more likely possibilities than some curse on Inca gold. To just go for the most outlandish explanation just doesn`t seem right!}  
  
She stopped her rant to catch her breath. Mulder grinned at her. *That stupid grin* Scully thought. Today she felt far too tired to indulge in his games.  
  
Mulder loved playing games with her. He loved watching her at her feistiest, when the blood rose to make her cheeks match her hair. He never wanted her to settle for the easiest explanation, because in their line of work it was rarely the right answer.  
  
{Then how do you explain the part where victim turned to gold?}  
  
{I don`t know Mulder. But I suspect that if we look at the facts a *reasonable* answer will surface. How do you explain the murder?}  
  
Mulder was at a loss. He couldn`t really explain the murder. He was just formulating some outlandish answer when a knock at the door saved him. Scully got up in a huff and walked to the door.  
  
{Why hello Blake,} she said, a smile quickly coming over her face. Her attitude changed quicker than an ocean breeze.  
  
{Evening, Miss Scully,} Blake then poked his head further into the room, {Evening, Agent Mulder.}  
  
Mulder noticed how quickly her attitude changed. *She`s trying to make me jealous. Ha! That`s rich!* He shook his head, the replied to Blake, {Evening, Sheriff.}  
  
{I was just wondering if you folks would like to join me for a bite to eat.}  
  
{I`d love to join you, Blake,} Scully said, shooting a glance at Mulder, {I can`t speak for Agent Mulder though.}  
  
*I can play these games just as well as her*. {Oh, you can count me in Sheriff!} Mulder yelled.  
  
Mulder picked up his trench coat on the bed, muttering under his breath, {You can count me in.}  
  
Scully grabbed Blake`s arm, {So tell me about Vero Beach, Blake.}  
  
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Vero Beach, Amici Restaurant. 8:01 p.m.  
  
Scully flashed the kind of smile that men get killed over.  
  
{Of course you don`t believe a theory like Agent Mulder`s, do you Blake?}  
  
They sat outdoors at a fancy Italian restaurant by the dark sea. The waves crashed angrily on the rocks below the deck in a hypnotic rhythm. A storm seemed to be brewing.  
  
{Well, Miss Scully, I like to view all sides of a case before I jump to any conclusions. Agent Mulder`s ideas may be a little big for a simple Florida Sheriff like myself-} Scully shot a displeased glance to a grinning Mulder- {but I hope that we somehow solve the murder at the bottom of this case; no matter what the circumstances.}  
  
Mulder chuckled, {You`re a man of great understanding Blake, despite being a *simple Florida sheriff*.}  
  
{But I do think that we should look at the simplest explanations first, and then work our way out, Miss Scully.}  
  
Mulder stopped chuckling, and now Scully smiled again.  
  
{Thank you for seeing things the rational way, Blake,} Scully said, her hand brushing his arm.  
  
She looked to see how Mulder reacted. He seemed absorbed in his pasta. *Well, I see how things stand* she thought. She would see how far Mulder would take it. Blake smiled back at Scully with that disarmingly goofy grin of his. He made some comment and Scully laughed. Loudly.  
  
Mulder had seen how her hand brushed Blake`s arm. He was a bit annoyed that she would pick out a random guy like Blake. But it was her life, not his, to live. She was just his partner. She had every right to be friendly with anybody she wanted.  
  
Mulder broke through a lull in the conversation, {Feels like a storm`s coming in.}  
  
Blake looked away from Scully to the setting sun behind him. {They say, *Red sky at night, sailor`s delight. Red sky at morning, sailor take warning.* At least that`s what they say.}  
  
The sky was a foreboding purple, and it outlined Blake`s sandy hair on the horizon.  
  
Blake`s comment reminded Mulder of a *simple sheriff*, and he chuckled. Scully thought the same thing; only it seemed so innocent that she smiled with Blake, not at him.  
  
{Doesn`t look to promising then, does it Blake?} Scully said, still smiling.  
  
{No ma`am. I`d say that-}  
  
Blake`s cell phone cut him off.  
  
{Excuse me one moment folks,} Blake said, getting up and answering the phone.  
  
Mulder looked up from his pasta to Scully. She looked away at the far purple horizon. Her red hair caught the glinting rays of the table`s candle, and it matched, even surpassed, the beauty of the retiring sun. Mulder was just about to say something when he thought better of it. He didn`t want to spoil the moment. Blake returned.  
  
{Sorry folks, but there`s been a murder,} Blake said, distracted by Scully`s glow as well.  
  
{Another strangling?} asked Scully.  
  
{No, Miss Scully. It`s a shooting. I know that may not seem too out of the ordinary to some FBI agents, but we don`t get many murders `round here. I`m going to have to go and check this out. I`m awful sorry about this.}  
  
{I could come along if you need any help,} Scully said rising, {would do you think, Agent Mulder?}  
  
*What`s this Agent stuff she`s been pulling? Have I really been that annoying?*  
  
{I would love to help,} said Mulder, none to enthusiastically.  
  
{Thank you all kindly,} Blake said, {Sorry to spoil the dinner.}  
  
Scully smiled, {Its no problem, Blake.}  
  
Mulder got up very slowly, Scully shot him a frowning glance, and they all walked inside to pay the bill.  
  
On the table the candle flickered under the building wind. It danced a merry jig to the tune of the sea. Then it winked out in an instant. All that was left was a trail of lingering smoke.  
  
----------------------- -----------------------  
  
No real notes to add here. Except that I crave reviews. I need them real bad. REAL bad. So write anything, just please write  
  
-Your ever-faithful writer 


	5. Running Before The Storm

"These impossible women! How they do get around us! The poet was right: can't live with them, or without them." Aristophanes  
  
Chapter 5:  
Running Before The Storm  
  
Vero Beach, off Main Street. 8:18 p.m.  
  
"Over here, Sheriff!" Deputy Jeff Sims called out.  
  
Blake ran over, the building wind slapping his clothes around.  
  
"We better hurry up on the scene, Jeff. We got a strong squall comin' in."  
  
Once he made it into the alleyway, the wind ceased its harassment of Blake. Blake had to watch his steps for garbage. Normally a dark alley would've been pretty foreboding, but under the glare of the police lights any sense of apprehension seemed to melt away. Jeff had called to Blake from the far end of the alley, away from the body. *What did he find now?*  
  
"Sheriff, take a look at this."  
  
Jeff stood with a forensic technician. He shone a light on the fence. The deep crimson red of blood greeted him and Blake.  
  
"Looks like we got ourselves a wounded attacker, Sheriff."  
  
"More like a second victim," a voice behind them called out.  
  
They turned to see Mulder. He was slowly strolling down the alley from the dead body.  
  
"Our first victim's gun hasn't been fired."  
  
Mulder held out the gun in his gloved hand.  
  
"Do you usually find hardware like this, Sheriff?"  
  
Blake frowned. "Silenced Walther PPK. That's spy hardware, ain't it, Agent Mulder?"  
  
"Yeah. Sure Sheriff. *Spy hardware*," Mulder said, smirking.  
  
Blake caught the smirk, and felt a bit embarrassed in front of his colleagues. He blushed.  
  
"Gee, Agent Mulder. I just thought that-"  
  
"Its fine, Blake."  
  
They all turned to see Scully walking towards them. Her heels clicked on the pavement, punctuating every step she took. She forcefully brushed aside a stray bit of hair. Her red lips were pursed, and she had a very determined look on her face. Very determined. Jeff shook his head. He felt sorry for whoever crossed a gal like this. Blake just bit his lip as he watched her sexy walk.  
  
"*Some* people, Blake, don't check the crime scene properly," she continued, her barb aimed at Mulder.  
  
"If Agent Mulder had taken the time to fully check the body, instead of rushing over here, he would've discovered this."  
  
With that she held out a passport. It was in some odd language, but Mulder made out it said South Africa.  
  
"What's that, Miss-" Blake corrected himself in front of the other cops- "Agent Scully?"  
  
"It's a diplomatic passport, Blake. Just the kind a spy might carry."  
  
She shot a look at Mulder to make sure he didn't say something snide, then continued, "These were also these in his jacket pocket."  
  
Scully handed Blake a number of cards, along with a photograph.  
  
"That's Don Sampson," Jeff pointed out, looking over Blake's shoulder.  
  
"Yeah," said Blake, "but look at this here."  
  
He held up a card. It read:  
  
Alexander Deger  
Chief Executive Officer  
Geographic International Explorations  
Floors 20-30, 3 Auric Plaza, Vero Beach, Florida  
  
"I've seen that company before," Mulder said.  
  
"Yeah, wasn't it on the list that diver gave to us?"  
  
"Yes," Mulder said, surprised by the *simple sheriff's* recollection, "these deaths may be tied together."  
  
Scully flipped out her cellphone, and grabbed the note from Jeff, who had just taken it. He exchanged a scared glance with the forensic technician. Hell hath no fury.  
  
"I'll call to see if they're still open."  
  
"Actually, Scully," Mulder said condescendingly, touching her arm, "I think it might be better if you do an autopsy on this body. You know to see if he has any side effects like Sampson's body. I can go and check this one out."  
  
Scully shot Mulder a look that would have killed many a lesser man. *He did NOT just tell me to stay behind while he goes off to do the REAL work! He did NOT!*  
  
"Excuse me!?!"  
  
*Two can play her little games* Mulder thought.  
  
"Sheriff Blake and I'll be fine Scully. You can go off on the autopsy."  
  
Mulder quickly grabbed the note back, then Blake by the arm, and they hurried away to the car. Mulder felt sorry for the poor bastards who had to stay behind. He hoped Scully wouldn't castrate them to roughly.  
  
"Bye Miss Scully," Blake called out as Mulder dragged him away.  
  
She turned back to face Jeff and the forensic technician. When they saw her face, the technician let out a little whimper and Jeff instinctively reached for his gun. Hell hath no fury.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Vero Beach, 3 Auric Plaza. 8:51 p.m.  
  
Mulder had called the company in the car. GIE was open odd hours, due to international gold markets, he was told. So eventually Mulder and Blake pulled into the large parking lot in front of the glass building.  
  
The building was a testament to the odd nature of man to disregard his environment. It was a sleek modernist structure, yet it seemed that when the next hurricane came along, the building would be reduced to a nice pile of shards.  
  
Mulder and Blake got out of the car. There was another car there, and a man leaned on it smoking. He wore a nice suit.  
  
"'Bout the FBI got here."  
  
Mulder leaned over to Blake, "Is he with you?"  
  
"I thought he was with you, Agent Mulder."  
  
They walked up to the man, who dropped his cigarette to the ground.  
  
"You guys are with the Bureau, aren't you?"  
  
Mulder showed his badge. "And who might you be?"  
  
The man flashed an unusual badge, "John Morgan, US Customs. We've been looking into GIE for some time now. It seems they deal with some less than reputable governments around the world. We suspect they may be smuggling gold into the US, without paying taxes. A horrible crime, you know, Agent- what was it?"  
  
"Mulder. This is Sheriff Blake Easton."  
  
They all shook hands.  
  
"How'd you know we'd be here, Agent Morgan?" asked Blake, a bit suspiciously.  
  
"Well, your case is pretty high profile. And since I knew Sampson's tie to GIE, it seemed only a matter of time until you ended up here."  
  
"And you've just been waiting here?" asked Mulder this time.  
  
"No. I've had this place staked out for a while." He paused. "So, are you guys going to ask GIE some questions, or what?"  
  
Mulder and Blake exchanged a glance. Mulder didn't think Blake was that bad. What angered him more was that Scully thought Blake was so good. Now they both shared the same doubts. But how were they going to turn away another federal agent, one who had some background information too?  
  
The howling wind picked up. A squall was blowing in faster and faster. Vero Beach was in for a rough night. In more ways than one.  
  
They all walked into the lobby. They passed some rigorous security measures, and finally made it to the elevators.  
  
"What exactly does GIE do that they have such tight security?" Mulder asked.  
  
"And that they take up 10 floors?" added Blake.  
  
"These guys are into a variety of different industries. Their main sector is mining, where they explore for, and mine, gold throughout the world. They also run a financial management subsidiary, an international freight company, a security services company, and a few others I can't think of right now. The CEO, Deger, is one of the richest people in Florida. I also hear he's quite the player in Washington. Which is why we have to make sure to tread lightly here. OK?"  
  
Mulder knew all about being told to tread lightly, and he didn't really care for it.  
  
The elevator stopped, and they got out. The floor was in imitation of an ornate Renaissance palazzo. Marble was everywhere, and some Old Master paintings hung on the walls. The desks in the room were wooden works of art, with gilt highlights. A cute blond secretary sat behind a large teak desk. She smiled at Mulder. He smiled back. *Hey, Scully's not the only one who can have fun.*  
  
"Would you look at this place," exclaimed gaping Blake.  
  
"Shut your mouth Blake, you wouldn't want a bird to get stuck in there," Mulder quipped.  
  
Blake hadn't heard; he'd gone off to stare at a painting.  
  
"Why don't you and the Sheriff ask some of the employees questions, Agent Morgan? I'll talk with Deger."  
  
"Sure. You'll have to talk to his secretary first though, right?" said John, winking as he walked off.  
  
Mulder nodded.  
  
*Stupid Yank,* the Australian thought, *now where's that yokel Sheriff?*  
  
----------------------- -----------------------  
  
I've got a game. Find out which character's last name is an anagram for a theme in this story. The winner gets, well, um, how 'bout the satisfaction of knowing they've won? And my admiration, which, of course, is priceless ;- )  
  
- your writer buddy 


	6. Supping With The Devil

"Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely." Lord Acton  
  
Chapter 6:  
  
Supping With The Devil  
  
"Mr. Mulder, please, take a seat."  
  
The room was large and opulent. With the huge Afghan carpet under his feet, and the antique maps of various countries on the wall, Mulder felt like he was in a Kipling novel. The neo-colonial atmosphere of the room contrasted sharply with the Renaissance façade of the waiting room. *Probably like how Deger contrasts with the façade of his company*. Mulder walked across the room. Dim mood lighting emanating from a light on the oak desk and from a light above a map of Africa. Mulder had to try and watch his step to avoid the tribal art scattered throughout the room. He finally plunked down on a soft leather couch close to the desk.  
  
Alexander Deger stood with his back to Mulder. He gazed longingly out the glass wall, at the waves crashing soothingly on the dark shore. Their foaming white caps spoke of the coming squall. The dark clouds that were forming obscured the pale moon from the sea below. The squall was close.  
  
Deger turned to Mulder and sat in the high-backed chair at his huge desk. He had a face carved from leather, with dark blue eyes and a large smile that had won over many an enemy. If only they knew what truly lay behind the smile.  
  
"How can I help the FBI?"  
  
Mulder fished in his pocket for a picture of Sampson, then handed it to Deger.  
  
"Mr. Deger, do you recognize this man?"  
  
Deger stared at the picture. His eyes narrowed.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Mulder. I believe that's Don Sampson." -he shook his head- "Terrible, terrible business. A good man, but I think he didn't understand the dynamics of the business world. He was better at diving for gold than making deals in boardrooms."  
  
Mulder found Deger's tone almost condescending.  
  
"You had business with Mr. Sampson?"  
  
Deger leaned back. His face became obscured in a shadow. "I have business with most everybody in Vero Beach, Mr. Mulder. Most everybody along this coast, as a matter of fact."  
  
"And just what kind of business, Mr. Deger?"  
  
"Oh, this and that, Mr. Mulder. This and that. I find that most people who wish to gain insight into the precious metals industry come to me for advice."  
  
"So Sampson was trying to enter the precious metals industry?"  
  
"Unfortunately, he believed I could fence the artifacts he recovered to my contacts around the world. That way he would not have to give the government the fourth of his finds it was owed. I, of course, had to turn him down. I'm not one to start a fight with the government, Mr. Mulder, because we both know who would win."  
  
*Do we?* thought Mulder, *there's something off here.*  
  
Rain began to rhythmically drum against the dark glass wall.  
  
"So you turned down Sampson. Could he have gone to somebody else?"  
  
"I'm sure he could've. He had contacts throughout Vero Beach. Some of them less than savory. You'd be better off going to the marina and asking questions."  
  
The rain drummed louder into the glass.  
  
"Where exactly were you when Sampson was killed, Mr. Deger?"  
  
Deger leaned forward in his chair. His face emerged from the darkness, and he had a slight smirk on his face. But his eyes remained dark.  
  
"Am I a suspect in this murder, Mr. Mulder?"  
  
"I'm just covering all the bases, Mr. Deger."  
  
"Well, Mr. Mulder, I happened to be having dinner with the Governor that night. You can call him up of you want to confirm that, Mr. Mulder. I have him on speed-dial," Deger said, reaching for the phone on his desk.  
  
"No, no, there's no need for that."  
  
"I didn't think there would be."  
  
Mulder didn't like how this was shaping up. Something about this whole scene seemed staged. Like Mulder was just playing a part. Deger seemed like a man who wasn't afraid of anything, least of all the law. Well, Mulder would try to change that. He wouldn't play anyone's part, certainly not this arrogant bastard's.  
  
"You know, I'm starting to think that you were more involved in Sampson's business than you let on."  
  
Any hint of a smile disappeared from Deger's face. All that was left was pure, cold, stone.  
  
"You better think hard before you keep talking Mr. Mulder. Think real hard about the future."  
  
"Its *Agent* Mulder, Mr. Deger. Men are dead, and I'm going to ask you whatever I want to find out just what happened here."  
  
"*Mr.* Mulder, perhaps you don't know the situation here. Or maybe it's just your overall attitude. At least that's what I can find from your file."  
  
Deger pulled out a folder from a drawer and laid it on the desk. The words 'FBI: Fox Mulder' were printed on it.  
  
"With a *spotless* record like yours," Deger continued, "its not surprising that you don't know when to shut up and do what you're told."  
  
Mulder got to his feet. He saw his file. His eyes narrowed and turned as dark as the storm outside.  
  
"I'm giving you one chance to walk out of here with a future, Mr. Mulder. If I can come across information like this-" Deger waved the file "-what makes you think I'm not capable of far, far worse things? I've bought and sold men with better principles than yours, Mr. Mulder. Far better. Walk away right now, and perhaps I'll forget this encounter."  
  
The room was silent. Except for the ever-present rain hitting the glass. Mulder leaned forward and rested his hands on Deger's desk.  
  
"You don't scare me. I know your kind, Deger. Men that think they're untouchable. Men that try to manipulate the world. But not everybody is willing to be a sheep. I will find out how you're involved in this, and I can promise that whatever power you may hold over Washington won't stop me."  
  
Deger laughed a cold laugh.  
  
"What do you know of power, Mr. Mulder? What do you know of sheep and shepherds? There are always people willing to be led- for a price. And everyone has a price. Some just have higher prices than others."  
  
Deger pulled another file from his drawer and dropped it on his desk. It had the words 'Samantha Mulder' printed on it. Mulder's eyes widened when he saw it.  
  
"I admire your will, and there are better ways than threats to get to men. You see, I knew the Bureau would have you down here before you even heard of this case. I know all about you, Mr. Mulder. I do my research." Deger looked at the folder. "And I know that it must've been tough to loose such a nice girl at such a young age."  
  
"You bastard. Don't you talk about her."  
  
"Oh, your temper is just another fault. But I'm willing to look past that, and make a deal with you, Mr. Mulder. I could use another clever man like you at the Bureau. I'm willing to let your present indiscretions slide, if you start working for me. Then all the information I could purchase-" with that Deger waved the folder "-on your dear sister, well then, it will be all yours. And I'll say I've been able to purchase some interesting information."  
  
Deger paused. Rain beat the glass in the background.  
  
"I've named your price, Mr. Mulder. The question is, will you accept?"  
  
Mulder stared long and hard at the folder in Deger's hand. The rain continued to pound against the glass. Thunder boomed off across the sea somewhere. *Is he playing me? But what if it is about Samantha? How could I turn it down?*  
  
"Tick tock, Mr. Mulder, tick tock. I have business to attend to, and the dear Agent Scully must be waiting for you."  
  
*Scully. What would she say? Could I betray her? Could I betray myself?*  
  
"The Truth has a price. And now you have to pay for it."  
  
Mulder looked up from the folder. His eyes had returned to the color of night.  
  
"No."  
  
"No!?!"  
  
"I will bring you down, Deger. And when you've fallen, make sure to look up and remember who put you there."  
  
Mulder turned to leave.  
  
Deger's eyes turned to fire. He clenched his teeth in a vice, and jumped to his feet.  
  
"You don't walk away from me! You hear me, Mulder! You don't walk away from me! I've made nations crumble! You're nothing! Nothing!"  
  
Mulder stopped at the door. He looked over his shoulder.  
  
His voice was low. "When is enough power enough?"  
  
Deger took a breath and straitened his clothes.  
  
"Well if you have to ask, then it's certainly not enough."  
  
Deger sat back down. His face receded back into the shadows.  
  
"I feel sorry for you, Mr. Mulder. But then you've sealed your own fate."  
  
Mulder left the room. *It stops being the Truth when you give up what you believe in.*  
  
Deger sat alone in the dark room. His only company was the rain. He picked up the phone.  
  
"Get me Graham. I've got another job for him."  
  
----------------------- -----------------------  
  
Hey, how's it going? Me, well I'm doing well. Just trying to write on as usual. I always like direct confrontations between protagonist/antagonist, so that's how this chap came up. I also like the idea of 'good guys' being tempted and their reactions to it. Tell me what you think about this confrontation (which, I know, probably seems similar to Mulder/CSM confrontations, but I'm trying). Looking forward to hearing what you have to say, most sincerely yours,  
  
-The Guy Who Wrote This  
  
P.S.- If you saw Deger = Greed, then congrats! You got it! You have my full admiration! 


	7. Good Guys and Bad Guys

"Life is pleasant. Death is peaceful. It's the transition that's troublesome." Isaac Asimov  
  
Chapter 7:  
  
Good Guys and Bad Guys  
  
Vero Beach, outside 3 Auric Plaza. 9:40 p.m.  
  
They stood like three dark sentinels against the elements. Rain fell sharply around them. It seeped around their coats. Under their clothes. Into their skins.  
  
"So you think Deger's involved in the murders, Agent Mulder?"  
  
Blake had a look on his face like a student. All he needed was a teacher. Mulder was willing to fill the role.  
  
"Sheriff, I'm sure he was involved."  
  
"But how can you be so sure?"  
  
It was Morgan. He stood a bit away from Mulder and Blake, squinting through the heavy rain to get a clear look at Mulder. He couldn't get a clear look, but something about Mulder said he wasn't telling all. *What the hell happened in that room?*  
  
"Trust me, Blake."  
  
*He used 'Blake'*. And Blake, despite being a 'simple sheriff', could tell there something hidden inside Mulder. For an instant he tried to read Mulder's face. The rain fell and soaked Blake's body and soul. But he could make out Mulder's eyes. They had a hard edge. Distant. Dark. *There's something else there. But what?* Blake only had an inkling. So he would take a leap of faith.  
  
"I do, Agent Mulder. I do."  
  
Morgan strained to hear. He felt like he had just missed something. *What just happened between those two?* He didn't like being out of the loop. In his business, if you were out of the loop you were dead. He'd have to retake the advantage.  
  
"Let's get out of the rain. I've got some documents in my car," he called over the wind.  
  
They ran under the angry sky and made it to Morgan's car. Rain drummed the cheap plastic roof. Morgan fumbled in his coat pocket for the keys.  
  
"Well you obviously found more than we did, Agent Mulder. We talked to a dozen employees, and they only spoke, excuse the pun, goldenly of GIE. If you-"  
  
Morgan felt the cold ring of steel against his neck. He looked over his shoulder. His eyes were wide, like a deer in headlights.  
  
"Just what's going on here, Agent Mulder?"  
  
Morgan turned slowly and faced Mulder. He held his gun on Morgan. Rain poured down Mulder's face, and his hair was matted to his head. His jaw was set like stone. He had a wild look. Morgan stared harder through the water. He recognized the look in Mulder's eyes. He had seen it before. On his own face, just before he took a life. The situation was getting out of hand. Fast.  
  
"Ag-Agent Mulder?" Morgan asked again.  
  
Morgan looked to Blake for answers. Blake looked even more surprised than Morgan. It was like his uncle turned out to be a serial killer.  
  
Blake tried to find his voice. He licked his lips, though the rain already had them soaked.  
  
Mulder turned his dark gaze to Blake. "He's with Deger," were his only words.  
  
"Agent Mulder, this guy's another federal agent. We saw his badge."  
  
Mulder shook his head, and droplets flew from his hair. He laughed softly to himself.  
  
"No, Blake. We're being played. Hell, we've been played this whole time. From start to finish. The murders, Deger, this man, they're all connected by whatever was in that box. Whatever Sampson found at the bottom of the sea. That's what everyone is after."  
  
Mulder searched Blake's open eyes for some sense of understanding. Some recognition of the Truth. Blake's mouth hung slightly open. He was searching for the words.  
  
"Agent Mulder, I-I want to believe you. I do. But for there to be-"  
  
Morgan saw his chance. As Mulder looked to Blake, he sprang forward. He grabbed the gun with one hand, and Mulder's collar with the other. Then he swung Mulder into the car. There was a crunch. A sweet little noise Morgan couldn't help but enjoy. Mulder gasped for air like a fish. Morgan was smiling. He had the advantage again.  
  
Morgan leaned forward and whispered, "Looks like you're not much of a hero, are you Agent Mulder?"  
  
Morgan's voice had changed. He now had an accent.  
  
He saw a blur in the corner of his eye, and pointed his gun at Blake.  
  
"Oi! What're you up to, mate? You wanna be a hero too? Come on then! Let's see it!"  
  
Blake stopped in his tracks. Morgan winked at him.  
  
"No? Guess not then, eh mate? Best hand me your gun then."  
  
Blake's eyes were narrow. They focused on Morgan's gun. He may not have been the brightest during investigations, but he knew what he had to do when there was gunplay. His knuckles tensed for action. Blood pumped though his veins. His teeth were clenched tight. He was ready for a fight. Damn ready.  
  
But Blake grudgingly handed over the gun. Morgan nodded his appreciation. He threw the gun under the car. Then he smiled. *Stupid hick sheriff*. Blake slowly backed away. He would wait for his chance. All Blake needed was an instant. An instant when his back was turned. An instant.  
  
The rain kept on falling. They all stood frozen in time.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Vero Beach, Medical Examiner's Office. 9:50 p.m.  
  
The body had no new answers. *What did I expect? He just wanted me out of the way.*  
  
She was done cutting up the South African. Now she washed her hands. The warm water ran over her fingers. Her mind wandered.  
  
Scully had found herself drifting away from Mulder. Lately he seemed so irritable to her. Like a kid who never stopping dreaming up schemes. *Why can't he be stop and think about what he's saying? Or is he always so sure he's right? He probably doesn't even value a single thing I say.* She shook her head wistfully and sighed. Maybe that was why she liked Blake so much. He listened to everything she had to say. Well that, and he was pretty cute.  
  
She finished washing up and dried her hands. She left the autopsy room, and went into the main office. She was the only one there. She sighed again. She could remember a time when, on a night like this, she would've been out with friends. But that seemed so long ago. Now she spent her nights cutting up dead bodies.  
  
Scully started to shuffle some papers. She stopped. She sighed yet again. She'd have to call him. Though she didn't really want to, she had to fill him in. She picked up a phone and dialed his cell number. She brushed aside a strand of hair as she waited.  
  
*If he acts the slightest bit condescending, I'll kick his-*  
  
-----------------------  
  
Vero Beach, 3 Auric Plaza. 9:49 p.m.  
  
He was drowning. He needed help. *Scully! Scully, help me!*  
  
Mulder gasped. He felt the cold pavement. *Scully? What the hell's going on?*  
  
Then the fog began to lift. He could hear voices. Mulder began to comprehend what was going on again. He blinked. The rain stung his eyes. Morgan came into form, then Blake. He stood off away from the car. Mulder still lay slumped against the car. He tried to shake sense  
  
"-and how do you think this'll end up? You don't attack a federal agent, and just walk away, buddy," Blake said.  
  
Mulder saw him through the rain. Blake paced back and forth. Like a cat waiting to pounce. But Morgan, or whoever he was, didn't seem the slightest bit worried. He just coldly laughed.  
  
"You're in over your head, mate! If I were you I'd-"  
  
The sharp ringing cut him off. Morgan turned to Mulder. That was all Blake needed. He charged in low. Morgan swung his gun at Blake. But Blake already had him up against the car. He pounded his fists into Morgan's ribs. Crunch! Crunch! Crunch! Morgan gritted his teeth tight. His sides were on fire. But Instinct was in charge. Morgan had a wild, animal look in his eyes. He brought his elbow down on Blake's head. Hard.  
  
Blake hit the ground with a thud. Water splashed up over his face. His face was submerged in a puddle. He felt the cool rain hitting his back. He felt so tired. He just wanted to drift away. In the distance he heard a dull bang. His body registered a distant sting. But he just wanted rest.  
  
Morgan rolled Blake over with his foot. His chest heaved. Blake had hit him hard. With each intake of air, his ribs cried out. He was angry. *Goddamn yokel!! What did he think he could do!?! Now he'd be dead for his trouble! Nobody ends up a hero!* His shot had hit Blake in the thigh. Morgan's face was primal with rage. The rain did nothing to cool his boiling blood.  
  
"Hurt does it!?! Now, how does it feel, Sheriff!?! How does it feel!?!"  
  
Blake did not respond. His eyes were glazed over. He stared blankly at the writhing sky above. Rain pattered down his face. Morgan pulled back the hammer. The click was loud. But he couldn't hear it above falling rain.  
  
"Never mind. You can tell me when we meet in Hell."  
  
The shot startled Blake back to life. For an eternal moment the world stopped turning. There was only falling rain. Blake exhaled. It seemed his life was escaping from his mouth. He waited for it all to end.  
  
Then Blake heard a thud. A small wave of water hit his face. He turned his head. The cold pavement kissed his cheek. Blake blinked. He squinted through the wetness. A wide-eyed face greeted him. The eyes were pale as ice. Morgan. A trickle of crimson streamed from his mouth. It flowed into a puddle, slowly inching its way to Blake. Blake turned away. Rain fell into his open mouth. He was too tired to stand. A shadow blocked his view of the far heavens. The shadow moved. Like it was talking.  
  
"-are you ok? Blake? Blake!"  
  
Mulder reached down and felt Blake's pulse. He neck was cold from the downpour. But there was a pulse. Mulder saw the blood dripping from Blake's leg. *Damn!*  
  
"Blake? Can you hear me? I'm going to get you out of the rain."  
  
Mulder had a pained look on his face. Blake had saved his life. He had saved Blake. It was the sort of bond that men don't take lightly. Now Blake couldn't die. Mulder wouldn't let him. He saw the keys lying in a puddle. Next to Morgan's pale hand. Mulder kicked away the hand. He snatched up the keys.  
  
Blake felt the reassuring patter of water end. His view of the sky was replaced with a cheap felt interior. He was lying on the rear seats. It felt so warm. He drifted off, ignoring the dull pain in his leg.  
  
Mulder sat in the driver's seat. He ran his hands through his soaked hair. He put down the gun that had saved Blake's life. The gun Morgan had carelessly thrown under the car. The gun that had lain right next to Mulder. His breath came in short, sharp bursts. His mind felt lost. Mulder punched the steering wheel. Again and again. His mind had found something. Anger. People would pay for this. They would pay.  
  
But Mulder didn't know where he could go. Who he could trust. Who he could count on. No. That was wrong. There was always one person he could count on. She could help Blake. She could help him.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Vero Beach, Medical Examiner's Office. 9:56 p.m.  
  
Scully angrily hung up. *Oh, now he's too busy to pick up his phone!* She was really going to kick his-  
  
Thunder cracked in the distance.  
  
----------------------- -----------------------  
  
Oh, so some people think criticism helps!!! Well I happen to find constructive criticism to be extremely below me! If you don't find what I write brings you Enlightenment, then maybe you should read something else!! --- Naw, I'm just kidding you ;-) I'm glad you could pick up my change in style. You see, most stories I write (that are non-fanfic), are noir/tough- guy themed. My friends (well, at least the girl ones, who're the only ones I do stupid things for), would rather I try more flowery writing. So every once in a while I gotta try that style to impress them. I guess I always end up trying foolish things for gals. So if you're a girl, and you write a review, you can be sure I'll take it close to heart. Anyhoo, I gotta go and wash off some hearts that were drawn all over my arm (by guess who?),  
  
- Your Pal Writer (who's just a sucker for the fairer sex)  
  
P.S.- Right now I'm writing a noir story called "Sahara West"- maybe you'll see it in your local bookstore soon. (I wish!) ;-) 


	8. A Rough World

"The right to swing my fist ends where the other man's nose begins." Oliver Wendell Holmes  
  
Chapter 8:  
A Rough World  
  
Vero Beach, intersection of Oak and Fathom Avenues. 10:06 p.m.  
  
The horn shrieked plaintively into the night. Mulder paid no attention. He knew he had run the stop sign. But he didn't give a damn. He just stared ahead into the dark night. Beyond the swishing of the black blades. Beyond the cold rain beating the hood. Right to the point where the lights faded and darkness took over. Mulder felt the darkness in him. It whispered of sinister thoughts. Mulder listened closely.  
  
He screamed through another intersection. Another horn cried out. Mulder glanced at the map on the passenger's seat. He could barely read it. But he knew he had to keep going. There was no way he could stop. There was no way he *would* stop. Even if he didn't really know where the hell he was going. He just had to keep going.  
  
Mulder heard a cough in the back. Then some mumbling and another cough.  
  
"Blake?" Mulder called over his shoulder. His eyes widened with concern.  
  
"I should've trusted you, Agent Mulder" a weak, but game voice called back.  
  
"That's fine now Blake," Mulder said, "I'm going to get you some help now."  
  
Another cough.  
  
"And do you know where our hospital is?"  
  
"I don't want to take you there. We don't know who Deger has in his pocket."  
  
"So we're flying by our asses, Agent Mulder?"  
  
Mulder smiled. Blake laughed a soft laugh. But it died into a series of coughs. Mulder's smile faded.  
  
"Don't worry, Blake. Scully'll be able to help you. You'll be just fine."  
  
"The lovely Miss Scully," Blake's voice trailed off.  
  
The car was silent. The rain kept on pounding.  
  
His voice was low. "You know, Agent Mulder, I'm no fool. I can tell when I'm just stuck in the middle of something."  
  
Mulder was confused. "What're you talking about Blake?"  
  
Blake leaned himself up on his elbow. His face was lit up by a passing lamp. He had a slight smirk. Then it plunged into darkness.  
  
"I can tell, Agent Mulder, the way Miss Scully glances at you sometimes. She's not really into me."  
  
Blake lowered his eyes as he thought about Scully.  
  
"She's just tryin' to make you notice her. And most guys'd kill for attention from a gal like her."  
  
Mulder frowned. His mind was racing.  
  
"It-it's not like that, Blake."  
  
"Mulder, you don't want to pass up something like that. You'll regret it for the rest of your life. I know."  
  
Blake was seized by coughs. He lay back down.  
  
His voice trailed off. "I missed my chance long ago. Don't miss yours."  
  
Mulder glanced over his shoulder. Blake was out. *Blake isn't making any sense.* He was just delirious, wasn't he?  
  
But Mulder didn't have any time to wonder about the possibilities. He had to keep going. He sped on through the rain. Another horn yelled angrily. Mulder ignored it.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Vero Beach, parking lot of Medical Examiner's Office. 10:22 p.m.  
  
Scully heard the squeal of tires in the parking lot. She looked up from her papers. *Its about time Mulder came back.* She was looking forward to talking to Blake again.  
  
Scully got up from the small desk. She walked up to the glass doors that were the Office's entrance. She peered into the rain. A car was parked in the lot. It looked like there was only one person inside. She peered even harder. *Something's wrong.* Scully ran out into the driving rain. It pattered against her face. Hard. She kept running. But she stopped before the car. *Something's definitely wrong.*  
  
Suddenly, the car's lights blinded her. Drops of rain fell like glinting gems in the light. She raised her hand in front of her face. It was a vain attempt.  
  
"Dana Scully?" a voice called.  
  
She still couldn't see who it was.  
  
"Yes. What's going on?"  
  
"Sorry. It's nothing personal."  
  
Scully heard the click of a gun. She started to run back to the office. Before she made it a shot rang out.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Vero Beach, St. Simon Road. 10:21 p.m.  
  
Mulder's head ached. His eyes ached. His ribs ached. Mulder ached. But from what he could read, he was close to the Examiner's Office. Which was good. Blake needed help. He mumbled deliriously in the back. He needed help fast. Time was running out.  
  
Mulder kept going.  
  
Wheels screeched. Mulder rounded the last corner. He could see the parking lot. Scully was standing there, in the rain. She was silhouetted by a bright light. *Shit. Something's wrong.* A man stood by a driver's open door. He held something. Mulder squinted. A glint of metal caught his eye. A gun. Mulder floored the accelerator.  
  
Rain struck the car furiously. The world sped by.  
  
Mulder caught the man in his lights. He had a cold look. But it wasn't half as bad as the look on Mulder's face. He was blank as a slate. And he felt just as much remorse.  
  
The figure whipped his head around at the last minute. His eyes were wide. His mouth hung open. But he still had his Instinct. He aimed his gun over the roof at the oncoming car. He only got off one shot. It crashed through the windshield. The glass shattered. Mulder closed his eyes and looked away. He kept going. Then all was dark.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Copper. Maybe iron. Mulder woke to the warm taste of blood. His head screamed angrily. It rested oddly on the wheel. He heard some soothing noise. A reassuring sound. He remembered it from somewhere. It was close.  
  
"-God Mulder. Are you okay? Mulder? Mulder?!?"  
  
Mulder opened his eyes to an angel. With red hair. Scully. He mumbled something through his busted lip. Her hand reached through the broken window. It ran through his damp hair.  
  
Her voice was concerned. "What happened? Oh God. You need medical attention. Come out here."  
  
Mulder felt her reassuring arms lift him. He looked her in the face. Her red hair was soaked. Drops rolled slowly down her cheeks. Her blue eyes drew him in. She had a pained look of worry. *Damn. Do I look that bad?* Mulder thought.  
  
He tried to crack a smile. "You should've seen what the other guy looked like."  
  
Scully couldn't help smiling. Any anger she'd had before fell away like the drops on her face. It was a relief that he could still joke.  
  
"Come on. Let's get inside, Mulder."  
  
Mulder looked at the wreckage. He'd hit the other car near the front left wheel. It had spun around. And then flipped over. And over. The lot was a mess of metal, plastic, and oil. Mulder saw a body had been flung up to the office's entrance. It's hand still held the gun.  
  
"Wait, Scully. I'm fine. It's Blake that needs your help."  
  
Mulder grabbed her arm. He pulled her to the rear seats. Blake was awake. He greeted them with a smile.  
  
"Evening Miss Scully. Sorry I can't get to my feet now."  
  
Scully smiled again. *How can they joke in these conditions?* But her smile disappeared with a coughing fit by Blake. She reached through the window. His forehead was searing. A bad fever. She also saw the blood trickling from his leg. The same look she'd had with Mulder returned. She was worried.  
  
"Hold on, Blake."  
  
Scully turned to Mulder. "We need to get him inside. And then to a hospital. Right away."  
  
Mulder painfully shook his head. "We can't trust anyone here, Scully. If we go to a hospital-"  
  
She grabbed Mulder's arms. Blue met brown. Her eyes looked up directly into his. She was reasoning with him. Pleading with him. For his understanding. For his trust.  
  
"Mulder, we *have* to get Blake to a hospital. He will die if we don't."  
  
Mulder looked away. Her stare made him remember Blake's words. He felt guilty. And she was right. Blake did need serious help. He looked like hell.  
  
Mulder hadn't said anything, but Scully understood he agreed now. She opened the door and helped Blake to his feet. Mulder supported Blake's other side. Blood dripped from his leg. Blake winced with every step.  
  
"I'm awful sorry to burden you like this, Miss Scully."  
  
*Always the gentleman* Scully thought.  
  
"Blake, you'd never be a burden."  
  
Blake managed a smile. "Thank you, ma'am."  
  
They made it to the glass doors. Mulder stopped by the body.  
  
"Can you get him in? I want to check this out. I want to find out about these bastards."  
  
Scully nodded. Blake limped along, leaning on her tiny frame. He called back to Mulder.  
  
"Oh, don't you worry about me, Agent Mulder. I'm in good hands."  
  
Mulder smiled as Blake and Scully walked inside. Then he turned back to the body. He knelt over it. *Just who the hell are you?* The man had dark hair and a non-descript face. Certainly not one you'd expect from a gun for hire. He wore dark clothes. Mulder looked through the man's pockets. He found a paper with the words: 'Dana Scully- see examiner's office'. Mulder felt the anger welling up inside him. Then he found a driver's license. *So the bastard's name was Graham Caviare.* There was another paper in Caviare's coat. It read: 'Room 19'. It was all coming together.  
  
Mulder stood up. He walked toward the doors. But he stopped. He heard something behind him. A groan. He turned to face the body. Well, not a body, as much as a person. Graham was alive. And he smiled at Mulder.  
  
"We'd better get inside. The Kiwis have been following me for a while now. They'll want what you're after- what everybody's after- the rock. And they'll kill anyone in their way. Which is fine by me, unless you don't want any answers."  
  
Mulder found himself hard pressed not to shoot Caviare right there. But he wanted answers.  
  
----------------------- -----------------------  
  
Hey there. Me again. Just wanted to let you folks know that there's another anagram. It's also another theme-like one. I gotta go finish my workout (you know how it is, show off at the beach, etc.), so I'll see you around,  
  
-Your (very fit) Writer 


	9. Some Answers

"No one ever became extremely wicked suddenly." Juvenal  
  
Chapter 9:  
Some Answers  
  
Caviare grinned like a fox in the henhouse.  
  
"What's going on?" Scully asked.  
  
She'd come out of the autopsy room. She'd settled Blake in there.  
  
Mulder held Caviare by the collar. He didn't struggle. Caviare's hands were cuffed behind his back. He even smirked. But Mulder's eyes simmered like coals. He only barely contained his anger. He just needed an excuse. Then Caviare would need tubes to eat.  
  
"I guess I didn't finish the job, Scully. This is the garbage that was going to kill you."  
  
Mulder threw Caviare against the main desk. He bounced with a thud. Then he fell to the floor. His face still had its coy grin.  
  
"Tut, tut, Agent Mulder. I might have to file a lawsuit."  
  
Caviare chuckled. The coals burst into flames. Mulder had his excuse.  
  
"You sonofabitch-"  
  
He stepped forward. His hand went for his gun. But he felt something else there. It was Scully. He turned to her. Her calm blue eyes soothed him. For an instant, he was lost in them. He forgot about all his anger. About all his aching. About everything. There was only Her.  
  
"Mulder."  
  
Her voice was cool. Calm. Reassuring.  
  
"Mulder, forget about him." -she moved her hand from his waist to his arm- "Come on, help me with Blake."  
  
Mulder broke from Scully's eyes. He didn't want her to see him blushing. He didn't want to be blushing. But he couldn't help it.  
  
"You two ok? Or do you need a motel room?"  
  
The fire didn't return to Mulder's eyes. Instead there was darkness. A simple, cold understanding of the situation.  
  
"You go ahead to Blake. I want to ask some questions."  
  
Scully tried to look at Mulder. But he wouldn't face her. Was he hiding something?  
  
"Mulder, I-"  
  
"Go, Scully. I'll be right there."  
  
Scully walked towards the autopsy room. But she stopped. She looked over her shoulder. Mulder still wouldn't meet her eyes. She started to say something. But she stopped herself. *No, now's not the time.* She left the office. The door swung rhythmically behind her.  
  
Mulder went over to the desk. He pulled Caviare to his feet. Caviare's face was close to Mulder's. He could see the arctic look of Mulder's eyes. For a moment, he wondered how far Mulder would go. But that didn't show in his attitude.  
  
"You got a cute partner there, G-Man. She's lookin' out for you, you know. Wouldn't want her partner to get in trouble, would she?"  
  
Mulder ignored him. He pushed him through the office to a body storage room. They went through the swinging doors. Mulder threw Caviare against the wall. He hit it with a metallic ring. But Caviare took it in good stride. He thought he knew the system well enough.  
  
"I'm beginning to feel like a tennis ball."  
  
Mulder stepped back. He was on the brink. Would he jump?  
  
"But then when I beat the rap, I'll forgive you."  
  
The fire was back. Mulder stepped in close to Caviare. He hit him in the gut. Hard. Caviare slumped over on the floor. He had a coughing fit.  
  
"You got a lotta balls, G-Man! But in this town those'll get you killed!" Caviare finally said.  
  
He looked up at Mulder. There was burning fury. Caviare wasn't used to being on his knees. And he didn't like it.  
  
Mulder didn't care. He stood over Caviare. He wanted answers. At any cost.  
  
-----------------------  
  
She looked into Blake's blue eyes. They were an odd tint. Like a wounded wolf. *I've got to do something.* She ripped open Blake's pant leg.  
  
"Why, Miss Scully, are you trying to seduce me?" Blake rambled out.  
  
She smiled and blushed. But she continued about her work. She was a doctor first and foremost. She took care of people. And Blake needed some care.  
  
"It looks like the bullet's gone straight through, Blake. That's a good sign. But it is a deep wound."  
  
Blake looked up from his cadaver table. The irony was not lost on him.  
  
"Well, ma'am, I'll take any good sign I can."  
  
Scully smiled again. She went over to a cabinet. She found some alcohol and gauze. She came back to Blake. Scully checked his wound again.  
  
"Now this may sting a bit, Blake-"  
  
His yelling cut her off.  
  
-----------------------  
  
"Jesus! I'll tell you what you want! I'll tell you what you want!"  
  
Mulder took his foot off. He'd seen Caviare favor his ass when he sat. Mulder knew how to exploit a weakness. Once he'd applied enough pressure (literally and symbolically), Caviare was broken. Mulder stepped back. He had a look of satisfaction. *You go after Scully, and I go after you.* Now he'd get answers.  
  
"What's the 'rock'?"  
  
Caviare regained his composure. He tried to put up a cool front. But the hints of tears belied that.  
  
"The stuff that dreams are made of, G-Man. The 'rock' is just that, a rock. The records are shoddy, but we could trace it back to the Inca."  
  
Mulder's mind started making connections.  
  
"They cursed the rock, didn't they?"  
  
Caviare started to laugh. But a glare form Mulder cut him off. Then pain in his ass told his mouth to wise up.  
  
"No, no, nothing that romantic. We only know what the Spaniards could torture from the Inca. But they learned of a god that fell from the sky. A god the Inca worshipped from afar, because to be near it was certain death."  
  
"From the sky- a meteor?"  
  
"You're quick, G-Man. That's why the rock's all burnt up on the outside. It's got elements that certainly aren't of this world. That probably has something to do with the magic the rock works."- Caviare paused, thinking to himself-"Well, that, and the radiation."  
  
"There was radiation on Sampson."  
  
"He was a fool. He took the rock out of the lead case. The Spaniards were clever enough to figure out lead blocked the rock's radiation."  
  
Mulder was working everything out, "Radiation changes the composition of atoms. The number of protons changes. When that changes, atoms themselves change."  
  
"Bingo, you get a new element. They've done all this in labs before. But it's an incredibly expensive process. Now the rock"- Caviare shook his head in amazement-"it could do all this on its own. And the result is always gold."  
  
Mulder's voice went cold, "And that's why Deger is after it, isn't it? That's why he sent you after it. That's why you killed Sampson for him."  
  
Caviare looked away. Mulder leaned in closer to him.  
  
"That's why he sent you and Morgan to deal with us."  
  
Caviare looked back. He looked puzzled.  
  
"Morgan?"  
  
Caviare's question angered Mulder. He quickly went through his pockets. Mulder pulled out Morgan's badge. He'd taken it with him. He flashed it to Caviare.  
  
"This bastard that tried to kill me and Sheriff Blake. Don't tell me you don't know him."  
  
Mulder pulled Caviare forward. Then he shoved him back to the wall. Caviare still looked confused. And now pained.  
  
"No. No. He's not with us. He's the one who shot me. He must be another spook."  
  
"What?"  
  
"You don't think we're the only ones after the rock. Governments would kill to get their hands on it. Especially gold producing countries. They don't want something like this to get to the open market. Gold's price would tumble. I know at least the New Zealanders are after this too. They tried to break into our office already. They've been tailing me, and they oughta be here too."  
  
"Mulder?"  
  
Mulder spun around. Scully stood in the doorway. He didn't know how long she'd been there. Had she seen him rough up Caviare? God, he hoped not. That would've been like breaking a promise to her. And the last thing he wanted was to damage her trust.  
  
He stepped away from Caviare. Mulder walked out to the hall. Scully stood without her labcoat. Her tee shirt was still wet from the rain. It clung tightly to her. Mulder found his eyes drifting. *She's actually pretty cute. I'd like-*  
  
Scully's voice cut into a thought he'd never finish.  
  
"Mulder I called 911. They said with the storm it would be some time before an ambulance got here. Mulder?"  
  
Mulder looked back at her face. He'd been caught, and he blushed. What would she think of him?  
  
Scully knew Mulder was exhausted. She understood he wouldn't be thinking clearly. His mind would wander. She could forgive a glance. After all, it wasn't very Mulder-like of Mulder to notice her body. Still, in the back of her mind, dangerous thoughts whispered bad things.  
  
Mulder tried to act smooth. Like he hadn't been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.  
  
"What's that Scully?"  
  
She turned her head to the office entrance.  
  
"Then why are there cars here?"  
  
Mulder saw the lights through the rain. He took a step toward the doorway. *What the hell-*  
  
Then the glass exploded in bullets.  
  
----------------------- -----------------------  
  
Caviare = Avarice. Good job if you noticed that. I originally wanted this to go with the next chapter. But I'm too tired to keep on writing, so I'll just break up the chapter. In fact, I'm too tired to even finish this paragra 


	10. Your Friends and Enemies

"Courage is being scared to death - and saddling up anyway." John Wayne  
  
Chapter 10:  
Your Friends and Enemies  
  
Mulder lay amid the glistening shards. He felt disconnected form the world. He felt exhausted. He wanted- needed rest. But then he remembered Her. *Oh, God.*  
  
He rolled over.  
  
His voice was frantic, "Scully? Scully are you okay? Scully!?!"  
  
The room was dark. The lamps had been shot to pieces. Papers were scattered across the floor. He couldn't see her.  
  
"Scully!?!"  
  
Mulder stood up. His head was reeling. He started to run toward the main desk. *Oh God, no.*  
  
"Scully!!!"  
  
Mulder felt his leg snag some debris. He reached to free his pants. He felt a hand and almost soiled his pants.  
  
"Mulder, its okay. Its me."  
  
Mulder saw the small frame of Scully. She peeked out from under a desk. Mulder offered her his hand. Scully took it and got to her feet. Her face was flushed. Her heart pounded to escape from her chest. She felt like electricity. Getting shot at will do that to you.  
  
"Are you okay, Scully?"  
  
"I'm fine. But what-"  
  
A voice unseen cut her off. It came form beyond the shattered glass.  
  
"Our quarrel's not with you, mates! We know Deger's man is in there! We just want the rock! We get the rock, and you get to walk away! You've got 20 minutes, then everyone dies!"  
  
Scully got an angry look on her face. She pulled out her pistol. Then she turned towards the driving rain.  
  
"We are federal agents! We are armed! Put down your weapons now!"  
  
The beating rain was the only reply.  
  
Mulder put his hand on her shoulder. Scully turned back to him. Her face was still flush. But there was anger there too now. Her face had a fuming look. A who-the-hell-do-these-punks-think-they-are look. It was the kind of look that had cowed Deputy Sims and the technician. Mulder liked it. But she didn't know the people she was dealing with.  
  
"Scully, I don't think they care. We're dealing with professional killers here."  
  
He told her what he'd learned from Caviare.  
  
"Mulder, that man is a criminal. He's just telling you what you want to here. For all we know those people outside work for Deger too. If you-"  
  
*Ever the skeptic. Even with the wolves at the door.*  
  
He cut her off, "Scully, just call 911 again. See if you can get the police here."  
  
Mulder started towards the cadaver room.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"To get some more answers."  
  
-----------------------  
  
Blake was worried. Scully had left him minutes ago. Then he'd heard the shots. *Christ!* His semi-delirious mind rambled. It rambled through some bleak thoughts. Awful thoughts. *God, what if-*. Blake had to get up. He had to do something.  
  
Blake slowly sat up. Instantly he felt woozy. He slouched forwards and fell. But he caught himself on an equipment table. *Whoa! Easy, Blake. Just take it easy.* He took a couple breaths. Deep, long, breaths. His leg screamed at his brain. *What're you doing!?! Lie back down! I'm in no shape to support you! You'll just collapse on me and we'll both go down!* Blake ignored his leg. He limped towards the door. With each step he felt his senses return. *Sight? Check. Smell? Check. Balance? Uh, check back later.* The sharp pain wasn't going away. Blake made it through the doorway.  
  
The hallway was dim. Blake could see the office had gone to hell. But then he saw Scully. She was crouching behind a desk. She had a cellphone, and was yelling out some instructions. Blake let out a long breath. He felt relieved. But where the hell was Mulder?  
  
Blake saw a door slightly swinging. It was just across the hall. He started towards it.  
  
"Blake? What're you doing up? You should be lying down."  
  
Blake whirled around. It was Scully. She had a look of genuine concern. Blake wondered just how bad he looked.  
  
"I heard the shots, Miss Scully. I was just checking up on you and Agent Mulder. Are you hurt?"  
  
Blake had concern too. Scully felt a little touched.  
  
"Mulder and I are fine Blake. But the situation has gotten complicated."  
  
She filled in Blake. His face had an odd look. Like he was on the edge of an abyss.  
  
"How did you find all this out?"  
  
"I didn't. Mulder did. He's been"- she looked at the floor- "interrogating a suspect."  
  
With that the door swung open. Mulder came out. Blake and Scully saw Caviare sprawled on the floor. The door continued to swing.  
  
"He fell," was Mulder's simple response to a glance from Scully.  
  
He continued past toward the office. Blake stared past the swinging door. Caviare. Door. Caviare. Door. Caviare. Then the door was shut. Scully started after Mulder. But she turned to tell Blake something. She saw his face. His mouth was slightly open. His blue eyes were distant. He looked like he'd seen something bad. Very bad. And now his conscience couldn't be clean. Scully didn't know what to say.  
  
"Blake, go lie down. I'll be right with you."  
  
She went after Mulder. Blake stood there alone. All of a sudden his mind was crystal clear. His jaw was set hard. And his eyes were an inferno.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Scully was trying to keep her voice low. But it came out sharp. She sounded like a scolding mother.  
  
"Mulder, what did you do in there? Do you realize what could happen?"  
  
"Scully, the rock is out there. Caviare had it in his car."  
  
"So tell them, Mulder. Tell them the rock is right out there."  
  
Mulder shook his head, "And then what, Scully? We just go on our merry way? No, they'll cover up their tracks and kill everyone here."  
  
Scully opened her mouth for a rebuttal. But she saw Blake walk by. He stared coldly ahead. He stopped just before the empty doorframe. Blake held his pistol. Mulder had left it on a chair.  
  
Scully looked worried again, "Blake? What're you doing Blake?"  
  
He just stood there. Staring out into the hammering rain.  
  
Mulder had seen that look before. When he'd been ready to kill the men who took Scully. Mulder knew bad things were about to go down. He took the gun Scully had left on a table.  
  
"Get to the back of the office, Scully."  
  
"Mulder, what-"  
  
"Now!"  
  
Mulder left Scully behind. He slowly walked over to Blake. He didn't seem like a 'simple sheriff' anymore. Far from it. Mulder stopped just behind Blake. Blake's hand was out, and he leaned on the doorframe. He looked to the floor. Rain splashed through the empty frame.  
  
"Blake, you don't have to do this."  
  
Blake looked up to Mulder. He didn't seem cold anymore. Blake's blue eyes looked sad. His whole face looked tired. Tired of life. Tired of a world filled with bad men. The fatalistic look worried Mulder.  
  
"We can still wait for the police, Blake," Mulder said.  
  
Blake's reply was low and distant.  
  
"You stay here with Miss Scully. She shouldn't lose a guy like you."  
  
Blake paused. He looked longingly out to the rain. Then back to Mulder.  
  
"Nobody lives forever, Agent Mulder."  
  
Blake limped through the frame. The rain pelted his body. He could just make out two new cars. Two men stood by each car.  
  
The man closest to Blake called out.  
  
"You got the rock, mate?"  
  
Blake raised his gun.  
  
"What're you, crazy? You wanna die? Give us the rock!"  
  
The talker and his companion stepped closer. The wind shook their dark trench coats. The second man whispered to the talker. He nodded. Blake didn't see this. They were blurs through the rain.  
  
"Fine, mate. If you don't have the rock-"  
  
They raised their pistols. With a bang, the talker fell to the pavement. Blake was a good shot. Then the rest of the men opened fire. Blake managed to get off another shot. The second man fell to his knees. He flailed wildly. But Blake never had a chance. Two shots hit his left arm and shoulder. He toppled to the ground. He lay oddly on his side. His gun fell just out of reach. He struggled for it. Closer. Closer. The fusillade stopped. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the two men. They were cautiously approaching. God, if only he could get the gun! He stretched further.  
  
The two men stopped by their flailing comrade. One of them kneeled down. He whispered to the wounded man. Then he blew out his brains. The two walked on. They were 30 feet away. 25. 20. 15. Then their chests exploded in a hail of lead. They fell limply to the ground. Blake stopped struggling. He heard steps pounding the pavement.  
  
Blake turned. Mulder stood there holding his gun. His face was pained. There was a bullet's trail along his neck. But he was focused on Blake.  
  
"Scully! Get out here! Quick!"  
  
Blake heard more steps. His mind started to fade. He made out Scully kneeling before him. She tried to stop his pouring blood. It mixed with the rain and streamed across puddles. Mulder stood in a daze. Scully tore off the bottom part of her shirt. She tied a tourniquet. Blood kept on flowing.  
  
"Jesus, Blake. Come on, stay with me!"  
  
Blake looked sleepily at Scully. He feebly got out some words.  
  
"Gee, Miss Scully, you didn't need to tear up your shirt on my account."  
  
Then he was out. In the distance, a fleet of sirens wailed. The rain kept on falling.  
  
-----------------------  
  
Vero Beach, Indian River County Hospital. Several days later.  
  
The sun shone brightly. The sultry Florida weather was back to normal. Heat filled up the entire room. But then so did the get-well gifts. The teddy bears, balloons, and flowers left little room for standing. Mulder stood next to a large bouquet of roses.  
  
He scratched his neck. The bandage over the wound itched. He wanted to scratch it.  
  
"You shouldn't do that, Agent Mulder."  
  
Mulder turned to Blake. *A man resurrected* Mulder thought. He'd seen Blake on the brink of death. But now he lay comfortably in a hospital bed. Well, comfortable do to the painkillers.  
  
"The doctors already yelled at me when I did that."  
  
Mulder smiled. He looked at all the gifts.  
  
"You're a popular guy, Blake."  
  
Blake smiled that goofy smile of his.  
  
"Well I try to make friends, Agent Mulder."  
  
Mulder smiled too, "I know. You're pretty good at it."  
  
Blake leaned himself on an elbow.  
  
"So what news do you have?"  
  
"Of course, the governments of Australia, South Africa, and New Zealand, have all denied any involvement. But Caviare has agreed to testify against Deger. He goes before a grand jury in a week and a half. We can get him up on conspiracy to murder. And Caviare will lay out Deger's whole operation."  
  
Mulder didn't seem as happy as Blake thought he'd be.  
  
"Is there something wrong?"  
  
"I was just wondering whether you can ever have justice for men like Deger," Mulder said wearily, "He already has an army of the best lawyers around to shield him. They're trying to cast doubt on some of Caviare's testimony."  
  
Blake looked concerned, "Are there charges against you?"  
  
"Yeah, I'm being investigated by the Bureau."  
  
A silence fell over the room. Then Mulder perked up. He pulled out a newspaper from under his arm. He handed it to Blake. Mulder smiled.  
  
"Your heroics made front pages across the country."  
  
"Must've been a slow news day."  
  
Mulder shook his head and smiled, "Some guys get the glory."  
  
Blake smiled back, "And some guys get the girl."  
  
Mulder turned as he heard Scully walk in. She had a big smile on her face. And a card in her hand.  
  
"Feeling better?"  
  
"I certainly am, Miss Scully. What's that you've got there?"  
  
Scully glanced at Mulder. Then she walked up to Blake. Her heels clicked loudly on the floor. She handed the card to Blake.  
  
"Oh, its something I just picked up for you."  
  
A sun setting over a desert was drawn on the cover. On the bottom, the words: 'To a true cowboy-'. Inside a stick figure cowboy, wearing a tilted ten-gallon hat, leaned on a corral fence. A straw of wheat stuck out from his mouth. Underneath were the words: 'Hope to see you in the saddle again soon.'  
  
----------------------- -----------------------  
  
And there you have it. My little story. And for anyone interested-  
  
Recipe for an Epilogue:  
  
Ingredients: 10 tablespoons of reviews, 5 tablespoons of my ego, 25 tablespoons of inspiration  
  
Instructions: Mix together on a computer. Add electricity. Let sit for 1-3 days.  
  
Serves: anybody who can read and has a computer  
  
- this recipe created by Your Pal Writer 


	11. Epilogue: Right and Wrong

"And in the end you wind up dyin' all alone on some dusty street. For what? For a tin star. It's all for nothin', Will. It's all for nothin'." Martin Howe__

**Epilogue:**

**Right and Wrong**

Vero Beach, outside De La Cruz Restaurant. One week later. 8:29 p.m.

It was a beautiful night. The sky was clear. Stars twinkled like gems. The moon was full and luminescent. A soft breeze came off the sea. It cooled the sultry night's air. Palms swayed. Leaves rustled gently. Offshore, the lights of liners crisscrossed to and fro. It was a brilliant show. On any other night, he would've enjoyed it. But not tonight.

He leaned on the limo. He knew his target would be along soon. All he needed was patience. He certainly didn't have doubts. He knew what had to be done. He was just ashamed he hadn't done it earlier. He gazed at the Heavens above. His mind dreamed of what life with her could be like. Peaceful like this? He doubted it. But then again, he loved the excitement of danger. And with her it would be all the more fun.

Voices brought reality back. Three men walked along the path to the lot. Two were burly. They had hard faces. You knew what they were all about. But it was the man in the center that he was after. The bad man. His face was like a mask. You never knew what was really going on.

The path wound by the sea. The Bad Man stopped. He gazed out along the sea. The two others stopped as well. They eyed their surroundings. What was the Bad Man thinking? Was he too wondering about the path not taken? No. More likely the Bad Man was thinking up more ways to hurt people. The Dreamer started down the path.

Immediately the two men saw him. That's what they were paid to do. They reached into their jackets. The Bad Man turned. He saw the approaching figure. He looked impatient. He looked to the burly men.

"No, no. There's no need for that."

The Bad Man stepped beyond the burly men. The Dreamer stopped just before him.

The Bad Man was impatient, "What're you doing here?"

The Dreamer's gaze was distant. He ignored the question. He looked to the twinkling sea. Moonlight bounced off it.

The Bad Man grew more impatient. His words came out one at a time.

"What are you doing here?"

The Dreamer's answer was as distant as his gaze.

"They weren't to be hurt."

The Bad Man was amused.

"You!?! You tell me: 'They weren't to be hurt'!?!

Then his face turned sour. He was wasting time here. And time is money.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You gave up your say about what's right and what's wrong a lifetime ago. And don't come to see me unless you're called upon."

The Bad Man started to walk past. The Dreamer stopped him with his hand. The burly men stepped in closer.

"Get your hands of me."

He looked at the Dreamer's hand with disgust. He threw it off. He was getting angry.

"So know you have a conscience? Where was that when you came to me years ago? Or do you forget so readily what I did for you? I told you where she'd run off to. I told you exactly where you could find your girl and her new man. We had a deal. The info, and then you work for me. It's not my fault you couldn't go through with it."

The Dreamer winced. They were painful memories. They still stung after all these years. He'd tried to put up a front. Act like he was all right inside. '_False face must hide what the false heart doth know_.' He'd been successful at pretending. But inside he was crumbling apart.

"I told you she"- he bit his lip- "they weren't to be hurt."

The Bad Man smiled a cruel smile. A simple slip of the tongue. Now he understood.

"So you're smitten? Is that it? You'll fall for any skirt with a pretty smile. You're pathetic."

The Bad Man walked brusquely past.

He called over his shoulder, "Don't you worry, I'll have someone finish the job."

The rage returned to the Dreamer. He had felt it before. When he realized he'd been tricked. When he recognized the Bad Man's role in the attempt on his friends. He knew he had played a part. He knew he was in bed with the Devil. And he'd tried to atone for his sins that night. He'd put his life on the line. Now he couldn't stop until they were safe. And they weren't safe as long as the Bad Man lived.

The two burly men followed the Bad Man. They passed the Dreamer. He silently opened fire. The burly men were caught unawares. If their boss wasn't scared, why should they be? They fell like stones. The Bad Man stopped walking.

"So now you've gone and got yourself a backbone?" he called out.

The Bad Man turned to face his foe. He still wasn't scared. Far from it. He seemed more irritated than anything else.

"What're you going to do? Kill me? Ha! So then your conscience will be clear? Then you'll be able to sleep at night, right?"

The rage was still in the Dreamer's eyes. He was an arctic storm of emotion.

"No. But there'll be one less bad man in the world."

He pulled the trigger.

The Dreamer turned. He faced the soothing sea. The waves hypnotized him. His mind again wandered. To a different life. Eventually he broke his gaze. He started toward the parking lot.

He was done. He'd paid the devil his due. Now he'd have to get back to the hospital.

-----------------------

FBI Headquarters. The following morning.

Mulder sat idly. He leaned back in his chair. He was tempted to toss a pencil or two. But it wouldn't feel right. Not after what he'd read last night.

He leaned forward again. His eyes ran over the papers before him. That would make it 8 times he'd read it. It made him sick to his stomach. Sometimes he really wondered why he kept going. Once again he leaned back.

"Hey."

He looked up. It was Scully. Her tan jacket and pants were a far cry from the wet tee shirt Mulder remembered. He remembered it well. (After all, Mulder didn't have the cleanest of minds). They'd had little contact since coming back from Florida. Internal Affairs Investigations kept them apart. IAI wouldn't want the partners to get their stories straight. So Scully had been indefinitely moved out of the basement. *Maybe its better that way* Mulder thought, *she shouldn't be sucked down with me*. But then again, all that didn't matter anymore.

Scully sat down opposite Mulder. He sheepishly took his feet of the desk.

"Hey."

Mulder didn't meet her eyes. He went straight to the subject he knew best. The subject all his relationships stemmed from. The subject that consumed his life. His work.

"This came in last night."

Mulder pushed the papers to her. She glanced over them.

"What're these?"

Her striking blues eyes looked up into his. Mulder looked down at the desk. He felt guilty after ogling her in Florida. He couldn't meet her gaze. He turned and got to his feet. He began to pace.

"Those are from the Miami office. Caviare was stabbed in prison yesterday afternoon. And the meteor has disappeared from the evidence locker."

Scully was silent. She was contemplating something. Mulder paced quicker.

"IAI is dropping its investigation. I guess I should be ecstatic."

Mulder stopped by a wall. He slammed his fist into it. His voice rose.

"But that just means Deger walks off free. That's the Great American justice system."

The room was quiet again. Scully let Mulder cool off. She understood his frustration. She put some papers on the desk. Then she spoke up.

"Maybe there is justice, Mulder. I just don't know if it's the kind you're after."

Mulder turned back to her. He suddenly looked tired. Like he'd been up a lifetime.

"I got a fax from Sheriff Blake. They found Deger and two bodyguards murdered this morning. He thinks they were shot dead last night. There was no evidence at the scene. But Blake says it looks like a professional job. And we know Deger had his share of enemies."

Mulder walked over to Scully. He stood at the side of the desk. His gaze was distant. His mind farther away. He finally turned to Scully. Their eyes met. Mulder's anger melted in those blue pools. He seemed almost playful now.

"What would you do Scully? What would you do if you could have all the gold in the world?"

She smiled that small smile of hers.

"Couldn't I rather have world peace?"

Mulder smiled back. He sat down. She went on.

"I guess I'd put the money to good use with charities."- She paused- "And maybe get a nice little townhouse in Georgetown."- She paused again -"Along with a desk of my own in here."

They both smiled together.

"And what would you do, Mulder?"

Mulder shook his head.

"You know Scully, I don't know what I'd do. I just don't know if all that would be worth it."

Silence filled the room again. Both their minds wandered. Mulder's went to thoughts of gold, justice, and other things near and dear to men. But Scully stared at the fax she'd put down. Something in the back of her mind murmured. It was that look Blake had had when he saw Caviare. There had been something else there, some recognition…

Mulder's voice derailed her train of thought.

"Scully, about how I acted in Florida. I'm sorry if I-"

She shook her head.

"You weren't being irritating. I was the one who acted wrong, Mulder. I was just feeling tired, and-and- well, I was just a jerk. I apologize."

Mulder didn't tell her that he was talking about how he had ogled her.

She changed the subject, "Hey, I didn't get any breakfast, Mulder. You wanna go out and grab something?"

Mulder smiled. Maybe then he could tell her some things. Tell her about how he felt. Tell her how wanted to ogle her more. A lot more.

"Mulder? Mulder?"

She'd been talking while he'd zoned out.

"Is there something on your mind?"

Mulder swallowed. Maybe another time.

"No, no. It was nothing. Let's go."

They both got to their feet. Scully walked to the door. Mulder watched her walk to the door. He smiled. It was a nice view. Then he followed Scully.

She waited for him in the hallway.

"Where do you want to go?"

He shook his head.

"I don't know. But we gotta make a stop on the way."

"Where?"

"I have to pick up some cash at the bank."

-----------------------

-----------------------

I copped out. It's a lot easier leaving the tension in the air than actually putting in MSR. Sorry 'bout that. Also, I originally put in a monologue by Blake at the beginning, but I think it works better this way. See, I don't like my 'good' guys to be saints. I find it a lot more interesting if they've been tainted. Let me know what you think about that. BTW the quote about 'false face' I took from Macbeth.

- Your best bud writer (who's already starting another story- it'll be up tomorrow probably)

P.S.- The opening quote is from _High Noon_. It's a _great_ movie. Go rent it ;-)


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